


Broken Down

by miikasaa



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst and Porn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, post mission coping mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 03:19:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3880255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miikasaa/pseuds/miikasaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's in the dead of night, with innumerable regrets and dead faces haunting them, that Eren and Mikasa use each other's bodies to chase away the horrors of a failed mission. It never works, they know this all too well, but it doesn't stop them from trying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Down

He finds her in the middle of the night, hours after the mission ended and he was rushed out of the public’s eye, away from his grieving comrades, away from his friends, and away from the people he came so close to losing. It’s a new rule- he isn’t allowed to rejoin the others until Hanji’s sure his limbs have grown back properly, that his mind’s in one piece, that no one’s calling for his execution again. Eren hates it, but if it brings them peace of mind, especially after an unsuccessful mission, he can at least offer that.

When Eren enters her room, he first thinks Mikasa isn’t there, that maybe she’s gone to join the men he passed in the kitchen drinking away their memories, or maybe she’s with Armin, or Sasha, or any of their friends. He doesn’t know who lived or died today; he’ll find out in the morning and spend the night resenting himself for hoping to hear names he can’t match a face to.

He’ll check the kitchens and then Armin’s room, Eren decides, sitting on the edge of her bed and trying to piece himself back together. He hurls his jacket at the opposite wall, replaying the mission in his mind again and again, thinking of everything he could have done differently, so lost in the blood spilling freely onto the ground that he barely registers the breath of his name or the curl of a hand around his wrist.

The pile of blankets in the middle of her bed shift, and Eren pulls them back to find her, bent under the pressure of being Humanity’s Strongest, legs pulled up to her chin, face hidden behind them. She looks as if she fell there as soon as she returned and hadn’t moved since.

He often wonders what it’s like- to have that kind of burden hanging over her shoulders. He’s expected to shift, to use his ability to attempt to protect everyone but Mikasa, she’s expected to be perfect, to protect and save her entire squad, him, _everyone_. She’s taunted on the rides back to the castle, ( _“If you’re so strong, where the fuck is my daughter? Why didn’t you save her!_ ) He’s ridiculed for what he can do. They’ve seen each other like this far too many times.

“Mikasa.” His voice is hoarse from disuse, broken and weak like they are. She doesn’t respond, but her shoulders tighten and he hears a sniffle.

She is alive, shattered and defeated, but alive. And in this life, perhaps it’s the greatest victory to live to see another wretched night.

Eren moves to lie next to her, presses a hand to her back to let her know he’s here, he’s alive, too. He can’t promise to stay alive, and neither can she, and they learned long ago not to bother with such easily breakable promises.

Mikasa does not relax, but he did not expect her to come back so easily, and she shoves her face into the crook of his shoulder with a heavy breath. “Tell me,” he whispers instead, his lips brushing the top of her head. It’s rare that she gets so lost in her head, so desolate after a mission. She’s known for her strength, and Eren knows how she hates to show a crack in that façade, whether standing before civilians or alone with him.

“I couldn’t save them.” She sounds so small, so far away from him. What he wouldn’t give for one of these nights to be happy.

“Who?”

Mikasa chokes back a sob, tentatively resting a hand on his waist. “All of them. So many… Eren, I-” She raises her head, revealing her tear-streaked skin, puffy red eyes, and blotched skin. She’s chewing on her lip, eyes trained somewhere over his shoulder, and Eren briefly wonders what she told Armin in order to be alone- Armin would never let her stay by herself like this. “Armin thinks it’s our highest loss in years. I-”

“You can’t save everyone, Mikasa.” Running his fingers through her knotted hair, he remembers the end of the mission. He was ordered to turn back, make a path to get everyone to safety- he’d lost sight of her after that.

“Then what use am I?”

“To _try._ To use your abilities and skills, and try as hard as you can to achieve your goal, even if your head’s telling you you’ve failed, that there’s nothing you can do.” He tries to get her to look at him again, but she’s got her finger between her lips, biting hard on the knuckle as if to wake from a dream. He recognizes this- her thoughts, they’re similar to what he felt, so many years ago, locked in a church basement and facing death head on with Historia. Mikasa was there to pull him back; he can try to do the same for her.

“What did you lose?” She’s changing the subject, grasping onto any chance to purge her mind of the dark thoughts.

Eren sighs, carding his fingers through her hair to dispel the last of the knots. “My right leg, half of my right arm, three fingers, and both ears. Mikasa-”

“I saw you,” Mikasa says, her voice gaining strength. “Taking on the horde of aberrants. I couldn’t get to you, everyone needed… Armin and Hanji made a choice, but I couldn’t abandon anyone.” She takes a shuddering breath, “but I couldn’t save them, either.”

With a hand on her chin, Eren forces her to look at him, waiting until the far away look in her eyes melts back into something sad. He makes himself breathe deeply to even hers, trying to forget what he had to do; the people he abandoned on direct orders.

“Stop.” They couldn’t change what happened.

Without warning, Mikasa shoves at his shoulder, forcing him onto his back as she straddles his waist. Grasping his jaw, she pulls his mouth to hers; kissing him the same way she fights- all controlled power and precision that’s always left him breathless. His hands are bunched in the back of her shirt, whether to pull her closer or push her away he isn’t sure, but she draws back ever so slightly before he has to decide.

“Make me,” she whispers, her lips hovering a breath from his, her strong thighs around his waist, and nails biting his skin.

“Mikasa-”

“Make me stop, Eren. I see them, every time I close my eyes I hear them begging me to save them.” Her eyes close and shoulders hunch under the strain of keeping her tears at bay, forehead resting against his as she moves her lower body against him, very direct in what she wants. “Don’t you see it, too?”

“You know I do.” Eren sees their faces, so full of trust, so eager for him to fulfill his destiny, to save their lives and secure a safe future for their families. And he sees them dead beneath his feet, bitten in half in a titan’s mouth, locking eyes with him one last time, tears streaming down their cheeks and they ask _why_ , _why can’t you save us_.

“Then make me forget.”

They’ve done this before; used each other as a way to silence the horrors they’ve witnessed. It never works for long- they’re left feeling colder and more desperate than before even as they fall asleep in each other’s arms. It’s nothing like the fullness after a night together fueled by passion and love, and not by despair.

They know it won’t heal them, but it offers a reprieve that alcohol and gentle, reassuring touches can’t give alone.

It’s familiar, then, easy for him to sit up, to hold her tight as she kisses him again, strong and fast and hard. He barely has time to register her fingers on his chest before she tugs his shirt away, pushing his maneuver gear straps to the side.

Eren breaks the kiss, grasping her shoulders to keep her from moving. “Armin-”

“He’s alive.”

Mikasa drags him back to her, and Eren realizes exactly what she needs that night- to relinquish control, to abandon her obligations through his knee shoved harshly between her thighs and his hand holding hers high above her head. It’s a feeling Eren knows all too well.

Eren tells her to keep her hands there and she does, lets him work through the buttons on her shirt until it joins her jacket on the floor. She arches beneath his touches but he is not gentle as he nudges his hand under her waistband, makes enough room to drag his palm over her core until she’s shaking beneath him, spreading her legs to make more room. When Eren pulls away, she doesn’t make a sound, but he can see the dissatisfaction in the line of her mouth, the way her eyes struggle to stay open.

He tugs her pants down; glad she’d removed her gear earlier that night before coaxing her onto her stomach, his thighs on either side of her waist. Mikasa braces her arms above her head, her face pressed into a pillow, as Eren wastes no time biting her shoulder, scratching his nails down her back, her moans spilling into the sheets.

“Again,” she demands, and he rakes his nails over her back again, pulling a loud gasp from her lips as the marks begin to redden. It once pained him to do what she asked on a night like this, but he’s learned. They’ve learned.

Eren still presses gentle, cool kisses on the worst of the scratches, though, even as Mikasa squirms beneath him. She sighs at the touch of his tongue on her neck, tilting her head and telling him to pull her hair. He does.

Mikasa tries to thrust her ass against him, but Eren holds his hand firm on the small of her back, to keep her from moving. He manages to get her pants off and his hand falls beneath her to work her open, taking care not to touch her more than his weight on the back of her thighs or his fingers inside her.

The heat of the room is nearly unbearable- Eren’s gear straps stick uncomfortably to his chest; Mikasa’s hair curls at the nape of her neck. Her skin is slick beneath his fingers as he twists her hair between his fingers and presses his lips to her neck, her shoulders.

“Hurry up,” she says, cheek flush against a pillow, hips jerking against his hand.

Pulling away, Eren fumbles with his pants, barely managing to get a leg out before he leans over the edge of the bed and reaches under the mattress for a condom. By the time he’s got his briefs down and the condom on, Mikasa’s tugging on his arm to draw him back to her. She folds her arms under her head, breathing heavy as Eren settles his weight over her.

“Mikasa.” Eren rests his forehead against the top of her spine, listening to her breathing settle some. “You’re sure-?”

“Yes.” Her voice breaks on the word. “Eren-”

He aligns himself over her, pulling her legs further apart and he pushes into her fully with a fast snap of his hips. Mikasa’s breathing hitches, spilling a loud moan into the pillows. She lifts her hips, grinding against him as he moves, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting in again, hands braced on her hips, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.

Her name falls from his lips in a groan and Mikasa grasps the sheets, her back arching beneath him and her shoulders tensing as if she would break apart. Her hair fans out on her pillows, and Eren gathers it to one side- desperate to see her face.

At a particularly loud moan, Eren is reminded of their surroundings, of the barracks half full of miserable soldiers trying to sleep away the nightmare of the day, of comrades stumbling back to bed after several drinks. He pauses, moving until his chest is flush against her back, and covers her mouth with his palm, cutting off her whine.

“We don’t want to wake anyone,” Eren whispers, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Do we?”

Mikasa shakes her head and allows Eren to help her onto her knees until she could support most of her weight on her arms. He kisses her neck again, resuming the same brutal pace as before, Mikasa’s moans muffled by his hand.

Where his hips are rough, his lips are soft against her slick skin as he kisses down her spine, her neck, her cheeks, and anywhere else he can reach. _I’m here_ , he tells her, through gentle kisses on her back and a careful squeeze of her belly, _for now, I’m not going anywhere._

When her hips falter against his, Eren moves his hand down her toned stomach to her clit, brushing his fingers over it. He removes his hand from her mouth, gently urging her up until her back hits his chest, and she quickly tangles one hand in his hair as he takes the other to link their fingers together.

Mikasa turns to look at him and he kisses her cheek as he thrusts into her again and again, telling her how much he loves her in whispered, broken sentences, and she comes with a jerk of her hips and a mantra of his name, squeezing his fingers so hard he thinks they might break. He follows soon after, lips on her neck and unsung words hanging between them.

He readjusts his arms around her waist and shoulders as they lay back down, holding her closer, tighter, afraid that if he lets go for even a moment, she would disappear, too.

Eren isn’t sure how long they stay there before Mikasa asks him to move, her face dropping into the mask she reserves for new recruits and missions. He wants to pull her back, hold her tightly, and promise her a better morning- a better life- but he can’t. He can’t promise her anything more than to fight; she knows this well.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he kicks off his pants before glancing back to look at her, the dark scratches running perpendicular to the maneuver gear bruises on her back, the hunch in her shoulders, and the careful way she stands. She tugs her lightest blanket around her shoulders, and he realizes what she’s doing just a second too late.

“Mikasa-” She disappears through the door without a word.

Eren sighs, dragging his hands down his face. She always comes back, but Eren wishes, not for the first time, that she’d let him come with her, to help carry whatever it is she cracks under. But sometimes they need a moment away even from each other.

The exhaustion of the mission creeps up on him, settles deep in his bones as he moves around her room, disposes of the condom and starts to remove his gear. The ache of what he went through reminds him of early training days, only worse. Back then, Eren was only sore; now, he’s deathly tired with images of blood and death burned into his mind. He’s beginning to think they’ll never go away, that even if he survives this war, remembering what he’s done and seen would be worse than death.

Hanging his gear next to Mikasa’s on her chair, he rummages through her bottom drawer where he’s started keeping clothes. Eren tugs on his sleep pants just as Mikasa reemerges in her doorframe, her blanket pulled up to cover half her face, but she can’t cover the tear tracks. He can’t manage a smile, but he offers his shirt. She takes it, letting the blanket pool around her ankles as she dresses slowly.

Mikasa crawls into the open space he leaves in the bed, curling onto her side away from him. He’ll lose her soon, and maybe in the morning she’ll be back, but there’s no telling how long she’ll stay closed up, or if she’ll open up to him again anytime soon. He recognizes it, though, and he’ll stay with her as long as it takes, always be there to welcome her back.

He folds himself around her, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his forehead to her back. He feels her touch his arm hesitantly, but she does not relax.

“I wish it would end.”

“I know,” Eren whispers back, though he isn’t sure if she means the war against the titans or her own life. Pulling her closer, offering his body as a lifeline for her, and picturing every way their lives could have been different, he kisses the top of Mikasa’s head, unsure himself when he says. “Me, too.”


End file.
